These early summer days have been such a treat – with the last course assignments done and a finished bachelor’s thesis in my pocket, I’ve decided to take a bit of time off before thinking about the summer exams. Instead of a to-do list, I’ve made a could-do list; I’ve found new-to-me summer clothes at a flea market; eaten my breakfasts and lunches out on the porch, and some dinners out in the town; finished books in my ever growing pile of currently-reading.

Yesterday, I took out the envelopes containing my precious magazine cuttings and spread them on the table, rummaged through and looked for ones whose colours would match or who clearly belonged to the same story. I found I didn’t have to think much, I just used the scissors and glue and the stories did all the hard work themselves. I have a hunch that all the books I’ve read lately have something to do with how my imagination is suddenly running wild; Emily of New Moon has taught me some tricks, and The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield has mixed in some darker hues. (In places so dark, I’ve only been able to read it in full daylight. Highly recommended, that book!) A whole spring spent in the Wonderland with Alice (thesis, you know) has probably done something, too.

Mainly, though, I think I’ve just been missing my own wonderland so much, the ideas simply pour out of me. I’m glad to be back.